


Of all the gin joints

by NuclearNik



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik
Summary: On a night she feels particularly alone, Hermione finds herself not so lonely.Inspired by Lonely Eyes by Chris Young. I recommend a listen :)For TDM's facebook writing group challenge prompt - Favorite HP pairing - Must take place at The Leaky Cauldron - Must include the color purple.Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Franchise





	Of all the gin joints

On a spectacularly damp night in wizard London, Hermione Granger made her way across the busy street, using yesterday's edition of The Prophet to shield her face from the rain. It had been a long day; all she wanted now was a glass of whatever was on tap and a cheese toastie.

It wasn't often Hermione found herself out and about in the evening, at a pub or somewhere other than at her flat, curled up with Crookshanks and some manner of work or research, sometimes a book. Her job at the ministry, as a liaison for the International Magical Office of Law, consumed most of her time. She truly loved her work, but it didn't leave much room for anything else.

Of course, she did get out from time to time, usually to catch lunch with Ginny on her break, or to celebrate one of the many birthdays of the Weasleys and extended family at The Burrow. On occasion, Harry and Ginny would invite her over to their place for dinner, wine, and muggle games, usually Risk, a favorite of Ginny's since Harry had introduced her to board games.

Most of the time she didn't mind her lack of a typical social life. She would be twenty-five on her next birthday, and she was proud of all that she had accomplished.

Sometimes though, sometimes the loneliness soaked through her skin like a fog, making her feel heavy and so very alone. She hadn't been on a date in a year. There really hadn't been anyone she respected enough to spend time with, but Merlin, she craved human touch. A body and warmth to anchor her, to bring her back to herself.

And that is why, on that drippy, drizzly evening, Hermione Granger found herself headed to The Leaky Cauldron, and she wouldn't be leaving until she found what she was looking for - a man capable of chasing the loneliness away, if only for the night.

* * *

At a dark corner booth, legs stretched out before him, Draco Malfoy sat nursing a glass of firewhiskey. A business deal had gone bad earlier that day, and he was here, in the first stages of getting sloshed, so he didn't apparate home and pace around like a madman, trying to pinpoint where he went wrong and berating himself for what he should have done or said instead.

When his father was sent to Azkaban at the end of the war, and his mother died shortly after, he wasn't left with much. All he had to his name was a broken down manor with nothing but black, cursed memories left in its midst. His parents had used so much of their considerable resources to tend to the Dark Lord's every whim, funding his rampage over wizarding England.

No longer able to stand the sight of the place, Draco spent a summer fixing up the house and grounds, readying to sell. Thankfully, the land was well situated and still worth quite a bit, despite all that had gone on. He sold the manor, and used the funds to invest, slowly building an international trade company that served to import and export goods around much of the magical world.

With a lot of hard work—something he had known very little of as a spoiled child—he built his company from the ground up, becoming well known, and once again, well off.

As his gaze swept blankly over the room filled with crowded bodies, he thought about the last time he'd been with a woman.

Silly, vapid girls threw themselves at him, terribly attracted to him for merely his money and influence. Most of the time, he didn't mind. A good shag is a good shag, no matter the motivation behind it. Sometimes though, he gets bored. He thinks about what it would be like if he had to actually woo a woman, have the back and forth of flirting and romance, to have conversations of substance with a mind sharper than his own.

On that miserable night, in that dark corner booth, Draco just so happened to have had such a thought. As it flitted through his mind, the front door of the pub opened, and in walked a goddess. Woman, she was a woman, not a goddess but goddamn was she beautiful.

Wearing tightly fitted jeans and a sparkly sweater, with a little purple scarf done up round her neck, she looked good enough to eat. His eyes made their way slowly up her body, only to widen a bit in shock when they reached her face, partially shrouded by a mass of dark curls.

_Hermione fucking Granger._

There's a line he remembers from an old muggle movie that the Manor's housekeeper had loved. Casablanca. She was always kind to him, that housekeeper.  
When his parents were away, she would bake him baklava and put on tapes of the old movies she loved. They'd watch them together on the tiny telly she had snuck into the shed.

_Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world...she walks into mine._

* * *

Swiping a hand through her hair in an unsuccessful attempt to wrangle into submission the frizzy curls made worse by the humidity in the air, Hermione shouldered open the door, stepped inside and headed straight to the bar. With no open stools, she stood to the side, waiting for the drink she ordered as she kept an eye out for a place to sit.

As she waited, she suddenly felt prickles spreading up her spine, from her lower back to the tender spot at the base of her neck. After growing up in a darkening wizarding world where even children had to be always looking over their shoulders, she didn't doubt her instincts.

Carefully and inconspicuously, she scanned the rather large room, searching the tables, the dance floor, and the bar for some kind of threat. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she rubbed the back of her neck, grabbing her drink as the barkeep slid it down the counter. She took a sip, intending to head over to a quiet alcove to people watch, when her eyes caught someone staring at her from a shadowed table in the corner.

She didn't recognize him at first. In the dim light she simply saw neatly trimmed hair, a bit mussed like he had run a hand through it, broad shoulders, long legs.

It was his eyes that gave him away. She remembered them. So cold when they wanted to be, molten hot when he was angry. Bright silver eyes staring at her in the darkness.

Malfoy. In her pub! Well, fine, it wasn't exactly her pub, as she so rarely came here, but this was her part of town, and last she heard he had moved out of England and was off running his business in who knows where.

'What is he doing here?' she wondered.

When the war ended, he was acquitted by the Wizengamot, on grounds of being a minor forced to play a part in Voldemort's sick ballet. She, Harry and Ron hadn't been convinced. There was a part of Draco that had wanted to serve the Dark Lord, they just knew it. But over time, as they all got older, went their own ways, she saw a change in Malfoy.

While Ron and Harry had gone on to Auror training, Hermione returned to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year. Neville and Luna were there to repeat their respective years, along with Ginny, and Malfoy, among others. Through many classes having to work side by side with him, and watching him from afar, Hermione began to see that the spoiled, nasty brat he had been as long as she'd known him had faded during the war, to be replaced by a mature young man, with little desire to continue the prejudice of his parents.

Just as she had lost her childhood in all the fighting, so had he.

They became acquaintances as they finished their schooling. Not exactly friends, but they were cordial. Mcgonagall had worked hard to ensure that house and blood prejudice had no place any longer at Hogwarts. For the most part, they all existed in peace. Sweet, quiet peace after all the horrors they had been through.

When Hermione graduated and took a job at the Ministry, she lost touch with many of her classmates, including Malfoy. What she knew of him she heard through the grapevine.

She knew he was successful, had made something of himself. She really never expected to see him back in London, considering there was no longer anything tying him there. She could say that what she felt as she locked eyes with him was simply surprise to see him, but that would be a lie.

Looking into a face she hadn't seen in near to six years, Hermione felt something she hadn't in quite some time.

Desire.

In an uncharacteristic, devil-may-care sort of way, she decided that this was a sign. His was the only table with an open spot. She thought she'd never see him again yet here he was, Draco Malfoy in the flesh—in her pub, no less.

She had heard of his exploits at school. After the year they'd had—years really—many Hogwarts students blew off steam by snogging and shagging every chance they got. The gossip in the girls dormitories over who was the best at this or that particular sexual act had often held his name.

Perhaps he was the perfect candidate for a guilt free, enjoyable, one-night stand. Perhaps it was fate, she thought with a snort, though she didn't much believe in fate.

Grabbing her glass, screwing up her courage, and putting maybe just a tad more swing in her step than usual, Hermione made her way over to the far side of the pub.

* * *

He had seen his fair share of women on a mission. What he could read from the heat in her eyes and the smooth sway of her hips rocking back and forth was something he never thought he’d see from Hermione Granger, let alone directed at him.

She wanted him? Why? What's her motive?

Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin.

He was eternally convinced that every person he met had a hidden agenda.

Regardless of his doubts, he felt stirrings of heat low in his belly as he watched her cross the room towards him. She had grown into a beautiful witch, that was for certain. She still had all that wild hair, but now she looked less like a pygmy puff, and more like a wood sprite. A sexy, little faerie.

 _"Is this what's happening tonight?"_ he thought to himself. _"I'm sitting here like a teenager, getting hard over thoughts of my childhood nemesis?"_

While they had found some sort of camaraderie while in their last year at Hogwarts, he had certainly never had more than a passing sexual thought about her.

Everyone knew she'd rather fall asleep surrounded by books than in someone's arms. When her relationship with Weasley tapered off into nothing more than a well-worn and comfortable friendship, he still thought of her as untouchable.

Shaking himself from his wandering thoughts, he stood as she reached the table. It had been years since he'd last seen her, and at that point he hadn't yet hit his growth spurt. Looking down at her now, the top of her head just barely reached his sternum. Unused to being unsure, and disliking the feeling, he wiped his palms on his trousers and stuck a hand out.

“Granger.”

She slipped her dainty hand into his, giving a surprisingly firm shake.

“Hello, Malfoy. Fancy meeting you here.”

He gestured for her to sit, settling back down as she slid into the booth.

“I'm here on business. My partner is out of town and had meetings that couldn't be rearranged. What brings you here? If I remember correctly from our school days, you're not much the pub crawl type.”

She sniffed. “Well I do occasionally do more than just sit alone in my flat, shocking though it may be, Malfoy.”

“Sure, but you always did love to have your nose in a book.”

“I'll give you that.” she said. “It's been long week. I'm tired and stressed and I figured this was as good a place as any to take a load off.”

She tipped her head towards his glass. “Is that your first?”

“Yes, and I wasn't planning on it being my last.”

“Bad day?” she asked, those dark eyes burning through him.

He shrugged. “Wasn't great.”

The longer he sat there next to her, the more he noticed things he'd never seen before. She had the smoothest skin, made even more lovely by the flickering light from the torches on the wall. Her voice was sweet and soft, with a laugh like tinkling bells.

Maybe she was a faerie. That would explain the nonsensical prose he was suddenly spouting in his mind.

“So..”

“Malfoy I…”

They blinked at each other as they both started to speak at the same time.

* * *

She watched him closely as he waved his hand for her to go first.

Hermione took a steadying breath. “Right well, you see, I saw you here tonight, and it felt like a sign. As I walked in here, I made a promise to myself to have fun for once. To not care what anyone else thinks and just do something for myself.”

His expression did not change, his face remaining in the same neutral position it had in been since she had walked up.

“What I mean is, well, hmm...are seeing anyone?”

“Am I seeing anyone?” His expression did change then. He looked a bit confused.

“Yes, are you attached at all? Married, dating someone?”

“No.”

“Great!” She clapped her hands together, excited that her plan was going so well.

“Great?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“I'm sorry, of course I don’t mean great that you don't have anyone, but rather—well, it's just that  
…” she trailed off, staring into her cup at the melting ice.

She felt fingers at her chin, turning her head gently to face him.

“Miss Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, stumbling over her words? Never thought I'd see the day.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile.

Another deep breath.

“Listen, Draco, I'm here, you're here. I'm unattached, you're unattached. It seems to me to be a simple equation and the answer is right in front of us.”

He kept his hand on her face, moving slightly to cup her jaw. “You're saying that I’m the something you want to do just for yourself, just for fun.” His smirk deepened, showing off a dimple she had never noticed before.

“I suppose so, yes. When you put it that way—”

“Okay.”

She startled out of the daze she had been in as he moved his thumb over her cheek.

“Okay? Just like that?”

“Just like that. I’m yours for the taking, love,” he said with a wink.

Before she could think of a proper response, he slipped his hand round the back of her neck, gently pulling her to him.

Though it was a positive reaction, she was still a bit shocked by how easily he agreed, and kept her eyes open, studying him as he moved toward her.

As soon as their lips touched, she felt her eyes flutter closed, tilting her head to better meet him. He kept one hand on her face, sliding the other into her mass of curls, nipping at her lower lip, just a little—soothing the sting with his tongue.

This was the sweetest, hottest kiss she had ever had, and it was Malfoy that was giving it to her? What a twist her night had taken.

* * *

_She tastes like peaches and cream_  was the only thought in his mind. Not  _Hold on, I'm frenching Granger?"_ Not _This could end badly, we should stop._  No, all he think was how fucking sweet she tasted, how good her skin felt under his hands.

When she leaned into him, making a kittenish sound in her throat, he pulled back.

Standing, he took money out of his wallet to throw on the table, and then held out a hand. As she looked up at him with those big brown eyes, swimming with want, it was all he could do to not throw her on the table and have her right then and there.

She seemed to come back to earth a bit, standing, fidgeting with her clothes, and accepting his hand.

He turned and walked them to the side door, which emptied out in a quiet, deserted alleyway. The rain had stopped, leaving a fine mist in the air. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, she was on him, kissing him, hand slipping under his shirt to slide across the tensed muscles of his abdomen.

He cupped his hands around the backs of her thighs, lifting her, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. Turning, he took the back of her head his palm, keeping it from hitting the wall as he pressed her up against the brick.

As he thrust his hips into hers, she met him move for move, setting a frenzied rhythm. With one hand, he hooked a finger in the collar of her sweater, tugging it down until her tits popped free. Leaning down, he took each nipple in his mouth in turn, sucking strongly, then pulling back to place wet kisses all over her chest. Her hands were everywhere, in his hair, scratching down his shoulders, mouth biting along his neck. The noises coming from her were increasingly high-pitched and keening. He knew she was near the edge, and he was just as close, about to come in his pants like a pubescent teen.

He licked up the side of her neck, then took the tender skin there between his teeth.

She exploded, mouth searching blindly for his as her eyes shut tight and she bucked in his hold.

* * *

Hermione came back to herself just as the man holding her stiffened, erratically thrust against her a few more times, before groaning into her neck.

“Holy shit,” he said, breathing a bit heavily from exertion.

“I concur.” She had no idea what to say. Being with Ron had never felt like that, and they'd had actual, full-blown sex! Imagining actual, full-blown sex with Malfoy had her feeling a bit lightheaded.

He pressed his forehead to hers, before releasing her to slowly drop back to her feet.

“Oh dear.” She looked down, “We've made quite the mess of ourselves, haven't we?”

Pulling her wand out of her pocket, She whispered a quiet _Scourgify_ and they were suddenly clean.

She looked up at him and they both laughed at the absurdity of what had just happened.

As she moved to step away, he reached a hand up to her neck. Her purple scarf had come partially undone, draped crookedly about her throat. He adjusted it, fixing the knot before once again cupping his hand beneath her jaw to tilt her face to his.

“So, Miss Granger, was that sufficiently fun for you?”

She giggled, going up on her tiptoes to plant one last kiss on his lips.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I do believe it was.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first attempt at fic. It was originally for a facebook group writing challenge but morphed into a bit more than the drabble I had originally expected. I just started typing and didn't stop for 3 hours. Hope you enjoy! I'd love to hear what you think.


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